Amanda wriggled her way onto Steven Spielberg's lap and began to stroke his beard. "Steven, honey, why don't you make a movie about me?"

Steven's wife Kate Capshaw, returning with two drinks in hand, flashed the Immortal an icy look. "He's already made a movie about a funny looking non-human with strange hormones."

Amanda started reaching for her sword. "Don't mess with me, you Hollywood has-been -"

"That's enough," Duncan MacLeod said sharply, bringing Amanda to her feet. The director himself, who'd been enjoying Amanda's warm, firm attention, hastened after his fuming wife. Duncan said, "What are you trying to do, get us thrown out? Do you know how hard Bill Panzer worked to get us these post-Oscar party tickets? We're supposed to be mingling for the good of the show."

Amanda lifted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and waived to her new friend Sigourney Weaver across the room. The party at Debbie Douglass' mansion was a smashing success, with A-list celebrities mingling and flirting beside cascading fountains and delectable buffets. Jim Byrnes and his band, up on the podium, filled the air with one hit song after the other. "Duncan, relax," Amanda said. She let her hands adjust the lines of his tuxedo. "Try to have a good time. We're here to work, but have fun too."

Duncan's glower subsided only slightly. "I'd feel better about it if Kenny would stop chasing Anna Paquin around the pool. And if Methos would stop pestering George Lucas about how the Epic of Gilgamesh would make a great Harrison Ford trilogy."

"At least Richie's staying out of trouble," Amanda observed, waving to her new friend Susan Sarandon.

Duncan looked around. "Where is he?"

"Over there, by the ice sculptures. He's trying to convince Winona Ryder and Sandra Bullock that he's really Chris O'Donnell. Come on, let's circulate," she proposed, taking Duncan by the elbow and steering him firmly towards the throngs. "Shame Tessa couldn't come."

"She and Anne had already promised the kids they could go see the latest Power Rangers movie," Duncan said. Actually, he envied his wife's freedom. Mixing with celebrities and power-makers made Duncan nervous, although he suspected his alter ego Adrian Paul would be quite at home.

"Mac!" An arm came down to drape around Duncan's shoulder. Gregor, who persisted in wearing his sunglasses inside at nine o'clock at night, raised a glass of wine in toast. "This is a great party, man! Sure beats Disneyworld."

Duncan eyed Gregor's skewed bow tie and the lipstick stains on his collar. "What have you been doing?"

Gregor shrugged. "Cuddling with Michelle Pfeiffer. Can I tell you how much I lusted after her when I was younger? I swear I saw "Risky Business" a dozen times."

Amanda fixed his tie for him and said sweetly, "Michelle Pfeiffer was not in "Risky Business." That was Rebecca deMornay."

"Oh," Gregor said. He drained his glass and scanned the room hopefully. "Is she here? See you guys later!"

Connor had appropriated a table and two chairs by the French windows leading out to the terrace, and was busy in a quest to conquer Meg Ryan. "What I don't understand," he confided, taking her soft hand in his, "is why everyone waves Duncan's flag, and not mine. I was first. I set the standard. I've only been in the series once!"

Duncan overheard the last part and said, good-naturedly, "You priced yourself out of the job, pal." To Meg he said, "Don't mind him, he's drunk."

Connor flashed a lopsided grin. "Not drunk enough. Why don't you run along and play, Duncan?"

"And let you have all the fun?" Duncan returned, just as brightly. He glanced out the windows to the pool and shook his head. "Well, at least the Kurgan seems to be enjoying himself and not pouting about the past."

Amanda squinted and asked, "Who is that in the lounge chair he's bench-pressing over his head?"

"I think it's Melanie Griffith," Meg said helpfully.

Connor shook his head. "He's just one big giant show-off."

Amanda waved to her new friend Meryl Streep. "See you later, darling," she said, giving Duncan a peck on the cheek. "Meryl and I are going to compare notes on Clint Eastwood. Don't get too starstruck."

Duncan watched her trail away in her golden gown, admiring the back view. He left Connor still trying to woo Meg Ryan and went to find out what Darius was doing. The Immortal priest had cornered Audrey Hepburn and was pumping her for information on his favorite film of all time, "A Nun's Story." "I thought Audrey Hepburn was dead," Methos said, appearing at Duncan's elbow.

"And we're fictional characters," Duncan pointed out. "I don't think it much matters here. How did George like your story?"

Methos brightened. "He said he was interested, but not to call him. He'll call me."

Duncan patted his friend's arm. "For someone five thousand years old, you're not too bright sometimes."

Methos bristled. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing," Duncan said. "I'm sure he'll call."

"By the way, Ceirdwyn just left with Arnold Schwarzeneggar in his limousine. He said something about showing her his Hummer. What's a Hummer?"

"A very large piece of equipment," Duncan answered.

"Oh," Methos said, matching his knowing grin.

"Guys, you've got to help me," Richie said, arriving with a flush in his cheeks. "What other movies has Chris O'Donnell been in?"

"Why are you pretending to be Chris O'Donnell?" Duncan asked.

"I don't think there's any resemblance at all," Methos said. "Now, that Star Trek: Voyager character, what's-his-name, there's a resemblance - "

Richie ignored Methos and pulled Duncan to the side. "I'm pretending to be Chris O'Donnell because Richie Ryan's track record with women is pretty abysmal, you know? As Chris I've got a standing chance."

"Oh, Chris . . . " a voice called, bubbling with amusement, and Sandra Bullock wrapped her arms around Richie's waist. Her cute, pert face rested on his shoulder. "I've changed my mind. Let's go upstairs."

"See ya, Mac," Richie said immediately, and started with the actress towards the stairs.

Methos spied a familiar figure across the room. "There's Tim Curry. Let me go say hi. The Rocky Horror Motion Picture Show is one of my favorite movies of all time."

Duncan snorted. "I thought you were more of an Ingmar Bergman fan."

"I'm just a transsexual transvestite from Transylvania," Methos said, flashing his most dazzling smile before heading across the room with the rest of that song on his lips.

Duncan pushed aside the slightly disturbing image of Methos in lipstick and a garter belt. He helped himself to a plate of desserts from the buffet table and tried to mingle on his own. He bumped into Sandra Bernhard on the terrace, but she ignored him and continued to outline her new movie plan to Jon Peters and Jerry Bruckheimer. Keifer Sutherland stood apart from the crowds, looking moody and tense. Duncan had always thought he'd make a good Immortal. He found Felicia chatting gaily with Bruce Willis, while Demi Moore seemed enraptured by Kalas' deep throaty review of her greatest movies. The review didn't take long, Duncan noted.

He decided to go to the men's room, but found the line snaking around the back of the staircase. Jim Carrey, James Horton and Kevin Bacon were at the end of the line, playing some kind of association game that had to link Kevin's name to James Naughton's in four moves or less. Duncan went to the second floor restroom, passing Johnny Depp and Randi McFarland cozying up to each other in an alcove. He was on his way back downstairs when he heard a muffled cry for help and the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn.

Duncan shouldered open the nearest door and found himself faced with the bizarre sight of Richie, gagged and bound spread-eagle on a four poster bed with only his blue boxer shorts as protection. Sandra Bullock, half undressed and appropriately demure, stood by the windows with a fistful of curtain as a shield. The dark-haired Kimmie who'd pulled his sword over Richie's helpless body shot the Highlander a murderous look.

"Stay out of this!" he said. "He's mine."

"Keanu Reeves!" Duncan exclaimed. "You're one of us?"

Keanu flashed an evil grin. "Why not? My name begins with a K, doesn't it? I never age, do I? I've been around since Shakespeare. Who do you think burned down the Globe theatre?"

"Let Richie go," Duncan said, reaching for his own katana.

"He's mine! She's mine! What do you think, I spent all that time on the bus with her for nothing? Do you even know what it's like to drive in Los Angeles?"

Duncan dashed forward and with a few quick, precise moves disarmed the younger Immortal. He chased Keanu away, warning him to never cheat again, and then handed Sandra back her clothes. She decided to dress elsewhere. Duncan eyed Richie's writhing form on the bed and shook his head sadly.

"How do you get into situations like this?" he asked his protege. Richie made a protesting move past the gag, which turned out to be a Highlander dishtowel. Duncan finally removed it. "It's not my fault!" Richie said. "Sandra said we should try enacting one of Kevin Robnett's stories, and I said sure . . . and then Keanu came rushing in."

"She probably set you up," Duncan said, working at untying the knots that held Richie's wrists and ankles.

"I'll get her for this - "

"You're not going to get anyone," Duncan said firmly. "Come on, get dressed. I think it's about time we left, anyway. Hollywood's beginning to lose its appeal."

They went downstairs and found Methos, Amanda, Darius and Connor dancing the Time Warp with Warren Beatty, Annette Bening and Kevin Costner. Kevin Costner wanted to talk to Duncan about starring in the next Highlander movie but Duncan told him the part wasn't open. He collected Gregor and Felicia but couldn't find anyone else from the cast. Sighing at his persistent responsibilities as lead character, he ushered them all out of the mansion. The dark California sky stretched out over the heads, the night alive with crickets and the smell of eucalyptus. The Immortals stumbled down the drive, Felicia carrying her high-heeled shoes, Gregor still sipping from a wine glass, Methos and Amanda singing "In just seven days and seven nights - I can make you a man!" Richie remained appropriately subdued from his adventure, and Darius seemed his usual reflective self.

"Fame, glory, money, power . . . " the priest sighed. "It's all fleeting and transitory."

"Hardly worth the effort," Duncan agreed, herding everyone into the back of the Panzer-Davis limousine.

"I'd still like some of my own," Darius said seriously.

They sprawled inside on the plush leather seats, eight Immortals with eternity at their fingertips. Everyone agreed that it was time to call it a night. Duncan knocked on the glass separating the driver from the passengers and the automobile's engine turned over, purring to life. The limo eased out past the mansion gates and down the drive, then did a screeching turn and gunned to eighty miles an hour. Richie careened into Felicia, both of them knocking their heads on the door, and Methos and Amanda spilled to the floor.

"Hey!" Duncan yelled, thumbing the button that lowered the partition glass.

A collective shriek went up from the back as the Immortals saw who had crowded into the driver's seat.

"Not Angela Mull!" Richie gasped. Angela just smiled sweetly.

Connor held his head and groaned, "Virginia Foster!"

"Good to see you!" Virginia said, pen posed over notebook.

Methos squinted. "Lisa Krakowka? Is that you?"

"Hang on tight, boys!" Cindy Hudson yelled, gripping the steering wheel with both hands, a wide grin on her face as she floored the gas pedal. "We're going for a ride!"

"And do we have plans for you!" Lisa added cheerfully, whipping out her laptop.

"Me first," Kevin Robnett said, elbowing Lisa aside and dangling handcuffs in one hand.

Janine Shahinian said, "Remember to share!"

"My God," Duncan murmured in horror, as the full implications of their situation set in. "We've been kidnapped by the fanfic writers!"

The writers just laughed maniacally as the limousine barreled towards the fanfic highway . . .

THE END